Find Your Way Back
by Victoria Squalor
Summary: Leon gets a letter and goes for a walk; Aerith wonders about what was and what might never be. LeonxAerith


**A/N:** Treacly LeonxAerith fluff, I love it more than cotton candy. This is my KH OTP—much as I love CloudxAerith the rest of the time, if he's gonna constantly ditch her for Sephiroth (and possibly Tifa), why NOT get with the sexy guy with the gunblade, I say.

The song I had practically on loop with this chapter is Yoko Kanno's "Rocky wa doko?" from GITS Stand Alone Complex. Find it on YouTube, it's a very moody-sunset kind of song and the perfect aural accompaniment. (Oh, and the title is all Jefferson Starship, but that song doesn't match quite as well.)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy or Kingdom Hearts. If I did, I totally would have gotten Denis Leary to do Cid's voice, because that's who I want telling me to sit my ass down and drink my goddamn tea (and he even looks like him!)

* * *

**Find Your Way Back**

by Victoria Squalor

* * *

Sunset.

She had watched this same sun sink into the horizon so many times, often from this same point, on a narrow flight of stone steps rarely tread upon, the cracks blossoming with thick weeds—another bit of tending the Garden yet needed. Still, regardless of what it had been called at the time, it was the same sunset, closing the book on another day.

This time it felt different, though, and Aerith had an inkling or two why.

Cloud had gone again. After all that time, after he'd finally fought his way back home, he had set out in pursuit of that ever-encroaching darkness that he could never let be—that powerful, gloating darkness armed with a masamune. And Tifa—gone even longer than he had been—had appeared, a blur of black leather and flailing limbs, and had barely paused for breath, it seemed, before she had set out too, in pursuit of Cloud.

And Aerith was alone again.

Well, not _alone, _of course. There was the same crew that had been with her since the Traverse Town days, with a few new faces sprinkled in. There was Yuffie, still all swagger and shuriken and seemingly boundless energy. There was Cid, gruff and guttermouthed as ever, intent on taking up smoking again now that cigarettes weren't a hard-won commodity trucked in by gummi ship from more plentiful worlds, who clashed with the young ninja at least twenty times a day. Then there were people that had called the Garden home once and had found their way back again, some Aerith knew, some she had only seen in passing—a girl in a headscarf who spent all day sketching the scenery, a boy in a zebra-striped bandana who'd taken up with the Gullwings crew as yet another resident "treasure hunter". People she would come to know with time, people she could come to call friends.

And then there was Sq—er , Leon.

She'd seen him open the letter earlier, the essence of magic rising faint and sparkling into the air as he broke the seal on the envelope, in the shape of wings. Wings that had long been echoed on the back of his jacket, that silent tribute to the one he had left behind. So, a message from _her. _She had watched as he read the letter with absolutely no expression on his face, watched as he folded it neatly back up and tucked it inside his jacket, then strode purposefully back inside and out of sight.

That had been hours ago now.

Yuffie had come looking for him since, irate that she was the only one showing up for that evening's security detail. "We have pirates," she groused. "As if the sticky-fingers squad wasn't bad enough, we've got these two characters grifting down by the gates. The girl has bunny ears—" here she wriggled her index fingers atop her head "—and the guy's chatting up anything with boobs, and succeeding. They've probably already made a killing. Where _is _Leon? I can't deal with this by myself."

Those last words resonated in Aerith's ears, and it took a moment before she found her voice. "He got a letter."

Yuffie cocked her head to the side, her eyes widening as the implications of the remark finally hit. "Really? From…her?"

Aerith nodded.

"Well, so, that's good, right? She found him." _She found him. Tifa—she found Cloud. I only waited to be found. She followed him, I didn't. Does that mean…that I don't… _"You think she's coming here, then?"

"I don't know," Aerith said, more to herself than Yuffie. "He's inside, somewhere. I haven't seen him in hours."

"No kidding," Yuffie sighed. "I've combed the place at least twice. Must've found himself a new hidey-hole. If he _does_ show up, tell him HE gets the next late watch. Oh, and Aerith, I think that's Cid destroying the kitchen," she added over a quick succession of metallic crashes. "Gotta go."

Aerith leapt out of her reverie and to her feet. Inside, Cid was swearing at the teakettle.

"Oh, Aerith," he grunted after he'd finished insulting the kettle's parentage, ducking his head in mild embarrassment. "Never mind me. I'm just trying to put the goddamn tea on. I didn't want to bug you, kid."

Aerith usually made Cid's tea—she had, in fact, been the one who had gotten him started on that daily ritual, as it was something else to get his mind off both nicotine and the end of the world. Just as it had been something else to get _her _mind off of worrying about Cloud. And here he'd been trying to relieve her of the duty, on the one night she needed the diversion more than ever. She smiled benignly, hoping he couldn't see it in her eyes. "It's no bother. What do you want tonight—oolong or orange herbal?"

She was pouring the steaming amber liquid into cups when he said it. "You know, old Spike might fuck off to the ends of the universe, but he'll always come back."

She missed and a stream hit the tablecloth, staining it; she uprighted the kettle with a furious blush on her face. Cid watched her casually as he flicked his lighter open, as she scurried over to the cabinet to fetch a dish towel, but keeping her back to him as she replied. "Of—of course he will," she stammered. He had promised her as much, after all. Even if he hadn't sounded altogether reassuring. "I'm not…I'm not worried about that."

"You're worried about him and Tif, then."

Why did the old man have to be so blunt all the time, Aerith thought with a twinge of despair. It was frustrating. Of the only two constant male presences in her life, there was Leon saying nothing, and Cid saying entirely too much, and not caring that he did, either.

"I'm—not—worried," she said tightly as she dabbed at the wet spot on the tablecloth. Cid added a sugar cube and then another to his cup, then wisely sought to change the subject.

"Where's Leon at? I hear he got a letter from what's her name."

"I haven't the foggiest," Aerith said, infusing her tone with a lightness that she did not feel, as she reached for the ceramic creamer.

"Hm. I guess that means another mouth to feed around here—like we're not operating a damned soup kitchen already. These kids better start making themselves useful—and Triple Triad is not a goddamned tradeskill, I told 'em today. They think this is a goddamned casino or something."

She felt warm and numb, sipping the brew and listening to him rant, until there was only a smattering of tea leaves at the bottom of the cup and the sound of Cid exhaling the sweet smoke that hovered like fog around his head. They rose, she to clear the table, he to take his cigar outside. Aerith mechanically began to rinse the china, paying no attention to each piece until the sugar bowl shook itself off in irritation and jerked away from her. She'd forgotten she'd borrowed part of Merlin's tea set. "Sorry, Sugar," she apologized, setting the lid back on its disgruntled head as it grabbed its spoon and waddled off.

Cid stepped up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder for one brief moment, almost causing her to jump. "It's okay, kid. He cares about you."

"I know Cloud cares about me," Aerith said, almost stiffly. Why couldn't he let it drop?

Cid cackled. "I ain't talkin' about Spike."

Aerith swiveled around, but he'd already ducked outside, leaving nothing but a thin haze of smoke behind.

* * *

By the time she'd finished the dishes, taken the stained tablecloth down to the laundry, and brought a bag supper to Yuffie—who was still steaming over having to stand watch alone—crimson and gold light was bleeding over every stone in the Garden, the wedge of sun still visible being crushed beneath the weight of the purple sky overhead. Returning to her weedy little stairwell, she'd found it occupied by the little artist girl, balancing a huge sketchpad on her knobby knees as she scrawled the features of the Moogle who'd offered her his services as a figure model. Aerith smiled at the scene and left her to it. She ascended to the rooftops instead, figuring it boasted a better view anyway, and it was less likely to be occupied.

Leon still had not emerged.

She found herself wondering about that letter. Wondering about the one who had sent it. The scattering of worlds and the chaos that had ensued—that had kept them apart all this time. Now that the disorder had sorted itself out, there was nothing keeping her from returning to him. Or him from going to find her.

An involuntary chill rippled through Aerith and she shivered violently, although the breeze that tossed her hair ever so slightly was balmy and warm. She'd never considered that before, but it had the potential to become very much reality. What if he left? Who would hold Radiant Garden together? Who would tirelessly stalk the grounds, keeping all of them safe from intruders? Who would put on a game face and compliment her cooking and only spit it out when he knew she had her back turned? Neither Yuffie nor Cid possessed that much tact.

_You're being silly_, she told herself firmly. _He spent all these years fighting to get our home back. He won't just up and leave now that the job is done._

So she'd come to the Garden, then. Aerith wasn't sure how she felt about that either. She imagined what it would be like had Cloud and Tifa stayed. They would have each other—they _had _each other, even if Cloud was too blinded by darkness to see it. Tifa would follow him down whatever forbidding path he roamed, trying to light his way. She was all the light he needed. What purpose did Aerith serve, then? Where could she possibly fit in? She would stand vigil for him, cheer for him in her heart, but in the end, it wouldn't be her that guided him back into the sun.

_I might as well be dead_, she mused, shocking herself with the grimness of her own thoughts.

It would be no different with Squ—_Leon_ and his elusive angel. They would draw the walls of their own world around them, and she would be shut out. He would be lost to her forever. Not as a friend, but as…as…

_Has he ever been anything more?_

Aerith flushed in spite of herself. Of course she didn't have feelings for him beyond that. She just knew him, that was all. Had had the privilege these last few years of being one of the few that did—and of those few, probably the one who knew him best. How many hours had they spent in those dank waterways in Traverse Town? He'd go down there to practice swinging the gunblade around, away from the constant onslaught of Heartless. She might not have been a fighter, but that was no reason for her to board herself up in the hideout—she couldn't bear the solitude. So she'd joined him, and he hadn't protested. "Whatever," he'd said.

At first it had been mostly companionable silence, broken by occasional talk of strategy, or odd musings about Sora and the King and Heartless and the fractured state of the universe. Then she found herself talking—about herself. About her foster mother, and her real mother, and the father she hadn't ever known. About Cloud, and how she worried for him. Ached for him, sometimes. And he had listened. Occasionally, once in a great while, he'd even talked about himself.

He hadn't known his father either, or his mother. He'd been looked after, for the most part, by his foster sister in the orphanage, a girl Aerith could only picture in vague images—a green shawl and a patient smile. He had been reticent about most things, but none more so than the topic of who those wings represented. Aerith had even less of a clue about her, and Leon wasn't about to volunteer one. Which left her imagination to run wild about the girl who'd cracked his stone façade once upon a time.

He'd never discussed her, not then, not now, in all their time restoring Hollow Bastion—time together spent troubleshooting Tron's mainframe; tending to the orphans that lined up outside Merlin's house looking for a bite to eat; holding off wave after wave of rogue Heartless, him almost effortlessly dispatching them while she cast her healing magic on the few scrapes he did earn. It was almost as if he'd forgotten about her. Yet Aerith was reminded every time he turned his back: _There's already someone out there for him, someone you can never be. _And there was that little decline, for a moment, in her chest, and then she would smile through it and carry her thoughts elsewhere and move on.

It still hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did.

Aerith closed her eyes briefly, only for them to flutter open in surprise a moment earlier as footfalls sounded upon the stones behind her. She didn't need to turn around.

"Welcome back," she joked weakly, with a smile he could not see. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine." That single syllable was unreadable. No enthusiasm, no disappointment, nothing to indicate any mood at all—but then again, Leon had mastered that manner of speech long ago. Aerith decided to take the plunge. "So…is…" she craned her neck around for a glimpse of him. "Is she coming, then?"

"No," answered Leon, eyes fixed firmly on the horizon where the sun had just slipped out of sight.

Relief washed over Aerith, followed immediately by a tidal surge of regret. _How selfish, _she scolded herself. "Why not?" she asked.

"Because she wants me to come find her," he responded, folding his arms across his chest.

Well. And that was that. He would leave her behind, just as surely as Cloud had. Except Cloud might still come back, someday. "Oh," she said, trying to make her voice light again, trying to not give away the sensation of her heart being painfully squeezed. "When…when are you leaving, then?"

Maybe it was a trick of the retreating light, or the angle at which her neck was craned to see him, but…was that a smile, or part of one?

"I'm not."

He moved to sit beside her, legs hanging off the edge, propping himself up on his arms and leaning back. Aerith remained speechless for another minute before finding her voice again. "But…I don't understand," she began, but Leon waved her off. Locked his eyes with hers and nearly scared her to death, because even in the scant ambient light, she could see herself in them.

"Understand this," he said, the gravity in his voice almost too much to bear. "I've fought too hard for this place to walk away now. We brought the Garden back from the dead, Aerith, all of us. That's the most important thing. I can't just give that up…for a ghost…" he shook his head, as though struggling for the right words. "For someone I knew a lifetime ago. Somebody I'm not even sure I know anymore."

Aerith could do nothing but gaze back at him.

"I thought at first…if she would come here, if she were willing…it might be like it used to. But it never would. There's too many years and too many trials between us now…I can't be her knight anymore. My life is here, all the people that I…" he trailed off and swallowed. "The people I love, they're all here."

Leon broke away abruptly at that, turning back to the horizon, and Aerith knew exactly the catalyst that had provoked the motion. A single thought of a stray warrior with a very large buster sword.

"Me too," she said softly, wondering if he would hear it before the night air stole her words away. He did.

"What about Cloud?" His brow furrowed, his expression fugitive in the gathering darkness.

"Oh, I'll always love Cloud. But I'm not waiting for him. Not anymore." Her sigh trembled a little bit. "I've been waiting, all this time, waiting for him to find his way back, believing…it would be _me_ that brought him home. And then he came home, and he left again. And that's when I realized. I'm not it. I'm not his light. I can't spend any more time waiting to be found by someone who's not looking for me."

Leon shifted uncomfortably.

"What did she say, exactly?" Aerith asked. "In the letter?"

Leon inclined his head. "She said…she'd be waiting." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Do you think…she'll be all right?"

"It hurts at first," Aerith said, unable to hold back the smile at the corner of her mouth any longer, "but she'll be fine. Trust me."

He caught her smile, returned it, somewhat hesitantly at first. "I've never not trusted you, Aerith."

Those eyes—cool and slate-blue—had always seemed so unreachable before, the irises impenetrable walls to a fortress nobody quite knew how to scale. But now Aerith saw the shift in them and wondered if something had just come crumbling down.

_Time to find out._

She reached out and took his hand. He looked down at it, surprised for a moment. Turned her small, delicate fingers over in his roughened gloved ones, then closed them gently and laid her hand back on her lap. She swallowed hard and willed herself not to cry.

And then he put his arm around her.

Aerith closed her eyes, unable to hold her head up any longer as it lolled onto his shoulder. "Leon," she whispered.

She felt the smile rather than saw it.

"That's Squall," he said.

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~end~


End file.
